


one big, happy family

by captainenvy



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Drabble, Fluff, Happy Starks, Other, asoiaf au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:33:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainenvy/pseuds/captainenvy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were many things Catelyn Stark prided herself on: she had a joyful marriage; she had a truly happy home; and she had six beautiful children that she loved more dearly than words could say.<br/>A small, happy Starks drabble to make up for the horrible death I have given them in my fic "Wolf in a raven's clothing" - drabble that I might update later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	one big, happy family

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thesandragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesandragon/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Wolf in Raven's Clothing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4732247) by [captainenvy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainenvy/pseuds/captainenvy). 



> Do you ever have 'I wish the Starks had lived to be happy' moments ? Well, I do. And so I gave them a happy beginning instead. Happy reading !

There were many things Catelyn Stark prided herself on: she had a joyful marriage to a hard, serious man that did everything in his power to make sure that she and her children were healthy, and wanted for nothing; she had a truly happy home, filled with memories and that came alive with noise and agitation; and she had six beautiful children, five that she had borne and one that she did not and had raised all the same. Yes, Catelyn had everything to be happy.

The Starks of Winterfell may not have been as rich as some of their neighbours, but they were respected, their kindness well known to all in the North. Catelyn and her husband Ned had done all they could to make sure that their children grew up to be good, kind-hearted people, and, so far, they had succeeded brilliantly. She loved all six of them with all her might, Robb, Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran and Rickon, and she hoped that she was showing it enough for them to know. Even the one boy that had not grown in her belly, that she hadn't nursed at her bosom, held a special place in her heart. Jon was on his way to being a truly good person, and he already was the hardest worker of them all. Yes, Catelyn had wondered about his parentage, whether or not her husband had sired him out of wedlock, but overall did not regret her decision to take him in. Ned had brought him home, a small wailing babe that looked so thin Catelyn had feared for his life for weeks, and had told her his mother had just died, and she didn't question him further. She was a loving wife, and, above all, a good mother. She had accepted Jon as one of her own, and placed him in Robb's cradle to truly make him part of her family. Robb was only two, Jon a little younger, and Sansa was already big in her womb; Catelyn was happy to see her litter grow. She reminded herself that, although Jon was a child of winter, he loved summer berries, and she would have to go and pick some out before the month was over, to make sure she would have enough to make jam come colder days. Jon never seemed like he wanted any presents for his birthday, but he always grinned when presented with his adopted mother's jam or pie, made especially for him.

 

Catelyn sighed, blissfully happy, alone in the house's main living room, sitting in her chair in front of the fire. She put down the sewing work she was doing – Bran's shirts that needed serious mending – and closed her eyes. At this time of the day, the house was dormant, and silent. All her children were either outside, playing or working – or both, in Arya's case, training her competition pony -, or they were upstairs, either calm or secretive. Sansa was probably playing the piano, Robb reading quietly by her side – even if he would never admit to it, he liked to read Sansa's tales of romantic and gentle love, and only his sister was allowed to see it -, or at least it was what Catelyn believed them to be doing. She listened intently to make out any noise to indicate what they were doing, but she heard nothing for a while. She even started to wonder if she should go upstairs when she heard a quick shuffling of feet outside one of the back doors, and chuckled to herself as she realized that Rickon was running towards the bathroom, holding his pants and chanting at the top of his lungs “Pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee-pee” without interruption. She closed her eyes again, amused, thanking the Gods for giving her such amazing children.

She wasn't as blind or clueless as they thought her to be, and she knew about most of their hideaways, but she gladly left them have their secrets, knowing and hoping that they would turn to her if anything was amiss, or if anything was wrong and they needed help. But she also knew that they usually tended to turn to each other for anything they might need. She had raised a pack of wolves, she thought, smiling, six incredible children that stuck together through thick and thin, through fights and lies, through achievements and successes. And, even though Catelyn knew each of them by heart, they still found ways to surprise her. When Arya came first in her horse-riding competitions, Sansa was one of the people that cheered the loudest, no matter how mean their fight had gotten the night before; when Bran and Rickon got in trouble at school for breaking the rules, they always called Robb instead of calling their father, and he would pretend to be Ned and he would pick them up for school, making sure they had learned their lesson, but never telling their parents. Catelyn only knew about it because she had seen it in action, and she had let it slide because Robb had been so responsible and Bran and Rickon so sorry; and when Sansa had ballet recitals on one of the biggest stages in Westeros, Jon always offered to drive her, even if they had to leave in the middle of the night, and he would always be the first one on his feet as she finished. Catelyn even saw him tear up, overflowing with pride, during her performances a few times, but she hadn't mentioned it once, nor would she ever. Yes, Catelyn had raised six children that had made them all into a family.

She worried, from time to time, that they would be too dependant on each other to take flight and leave the nest, but they all seemed to have a mind of their own, and separate plans for the future. Bran and Arya were the most vocal about their futures, both so sure of their calling in life, and they were eager to grow up and show that they could make it on their own. Jon was calmer about his own calling, but it was extremely clear to everyone that he had been born to be outside, to take care of the soil and the things they grew on the farm, cereals and plants, and everyone knew that he was the perfect shoe in to become overseer of their farms. Even Rickon, her sweet little baby that Catelyn still had trouble letting go although he had just turned five years old, would shout to whomever wanted to listen that he would become a wolf, just like the ones given to them by their father, and he sometimes was caught eating in Shaggydog's bowl, even after Catelyn had told him off.

Even Sansa, her quieter child, Catelyn knew by heart. She had been her first daughter, and in some aspect had remained her only one, as Arya resembled a boy much more than she did a girl, and no one could care less about it; and Catelyn had always felt a special kinship to her, as she had had with her firstborn – coincidentally, they were Ned's only two children that looked like her -. She had expected it to be true with all her children, and in a way it had, and yet Robb and Sansa felt like they were hers, whereas the four others were hers and Ned's. She wondered, too, whether or not she had pushed them towards each other a little too much, as they now form a cluster of their own. They were by no means distant with their other siblings, quite the contrary, and they were not the only sibling duo in the house, as Arya and Jon formed the second one, and Bran and Rickon – although no two boys were as different as her two youngest - the third. Yet it seemed that Robb and Sansa had a common mind : they understood each other without words, sometimes without even looking at each other, and, if Catelyn was completely honest, she had been jealous of their bond a few times. And she knew, without being sure that they knew it yet, that no one could separate them, and that, if they ever got lucky enough to find someone they wanted to spend their lives with, those people will have to understand that, whatever happened, siblings always came first.

 

She heard Rickon run back outside without a word, and she smiled to herself. She had heard him flush, had heard the water running in the sink, and, for a boy of five, this was victory enough. She felt her heart grow, even at such a small thing, and opened her eyes back up. Rickon was much younger than Bran, Ned and hers last child, and he had been thrown in with them very early. He had hated staying in his mother's skirts when everyone else was outside, and he had left them of his own accord at three years old. Catelyn had tried not to be sad, but he had been her last boy, and feeling like he didn't need her as much as he needed his brothers and sisters had hurt her. In any of her children's case, she had been okay with letting them grow up, because she knew she would have more babies, but Ned and her had agreed that their family was large enough, and no more babe would suckle at her breast. She was happy, though, that even her oldest were too young to start families of their own - Robb had just turned eighteen, Jon would be seventeen come winter, and Sansa would be sixteen next spring -, and that they would stay at home for the foreseeable future.

Last winter, their father had given them a most surprising gift : each of his children was given a wolf, the mother of which had been found dead, and Ned had told them it would teach them responsibility. Catelyn had smiled at this, knowing full well that he had sired the most responsible children in the North, but they had all been overjoyed at the idea of new puppies. They were calm beasts, but dangerous when they felt like they should protect their own child, and each of the wolves had a great likening to the person training them. Jon's Ghost and Bran's Summer longed for the outside, for wide plains and grand walks; Sansa's Lady was always clean and quiet; Robb's Grey Wind was obedient and a little overprotective; Arya's Nymeria refused to back down from a fight, but patient when it needed to; and Rickon's Shaggydog was a goofy wolf that was always up for adventure. It made so much sense now for Catelyn to see her children with their wolf that they always somehow looked naked without them.

The wolves would accompany the children to school every morning, and they would wait by the old, iron gates that marked the beginning of the Stark estate every afternoon, waiting for the children to come home. Ghost was almost never with them, as Jon only went to school two weeks every month, working on the lands as part of his training the remaining two other. Robb came home from high school around one everyday, but Sansa, although she, too, was a highschooler, always came home a little before three, and a little before the children. She went to ballet practice from noon to two thirty everyday, and her music teachers would come at the house around four twice a week, which had her officially nicknamed the overachiever of the family. Jon was the hard worker, Robb the second father, Bran was the brains and Arya was the brawns, and Rickon was the baby. They often teased each other, always in good humour, and even when mad at each other, it was clear the they loved each other desperately.

 

Catelyn glanced at the clock and saw that it was about to strike three, and she got up, knowing that the six Stark siblings liked to gather in the kitchen around that time every day, as it was the moment they would almost all come home from school, and Catelyn liked to watch them be. As she approached the kitchen, she saw that Sansa was putting the kettle on, warming some milk, and was now in the process of making fresh coffee. Robb, on the other hand, was in charge of sandwiches and setting up the table, and they conversed gleefully, discussing some book that Robb had just finished reading and disliked, when Sansa had adored it. They were discussing some character named Lizzie when Jon came in through the kitchen door. Ghost was at his heel, but he ran to the heater and lied there while Jon took off his coat. He kissed Sansa on the cheek and patted Robb on the back, smiling at Catelyn with shining eyes, before sitting down, waiting for coffee to brew. They were waiting for Arya, Bran and Rickon to arrive before eating, but they each took their place around the table. Robb and Jon exchanged a few words that Catelyn didn't understand, and, as she saw Sansa get up and made herself busy elsewhere, she knew that she was not meant to listen, and that it was their business. Of course, she was always tempted, but the fact that they were not waiting for her to leave warmed her heart, and she simply did not want to break that trust. They all heard the tornado of children about to come in as they could make out shouts and feet running, and Rickon came in first, followed closely by Arya and Bran, then by their pets. Coats and scarves and hats were thrown everywhere, and they all sat by the table, but Sansa cleared her throat once, and Robb gave them a peculiar look and the three youngest rolled their eyes in protest, but got up and put their garments on racks, and went to the sink to wash their hands. Catelyn smiled to herself as Sansa poured the milk in personalized mugs – a gift she had made everyone when she was seven, and that she hated now, but they were now so fixed in their daily lives that no one wanted to get rid of them but her -, and Robb put sandwiches on plates.

Arya ran to Jon, sat by his side as he put his arm around her and asked her about her progress; Rickon fled to the fullest plate and Bran sat next to him, each trying to steal from the other's, but putting everything back when they succeeded, and Robb and Sansa watching everyone, hands tightly entwined and on Sansa's lap, her drinking tea and him coffee with milk, presiding over their siblings with unspoken authority. It was a very common scene in the Stark household, but it was extraordinary all the same, and Catelyn quietly thought to herself that, if she were to die tomorrow, she would be happy to have lived long enough to have witnessed such incredible love.

 


End file.
